


(c)u(tie)

by oldpapertowns



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M, Mikey and Gerard are mentioned, Patrick and Joe are extremely helpful, Patrick is adorable, Pete thinks he missed his flight, Slightly - Freeform, Third Person POV, coffee shop AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-19 09:14:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20328697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oldpapertowns/pseuds/oldpapertowns
Summary: Pete sits down in the seat, backpack and all, and buries his head in his hands. Why today, of all days? Why did he have to sleep past his damn alarm today? Why had he thought that it would be a good idea to stay up so late yesterday? He should have known better, should have known that he would have slept through his fucking alarm. He’s a fucking idiot, an idiot who should never be trusted to fly by himself.“Hey, you okay?” Pete is jolted out of his thoughts by a soft voice and looks up to see who just may be the cutest human Pete has ever seen. He’s wearing a gray polo shirt, an oversized cardigan, skinny black jeans, black-rimmed glasses. Oh, and a black fedora perched jauntily on top of ginger hair swept sideways.





	(c)u(tie)

**Author's Note:**

> somewhat based off this prompt: hey it's 4 am bc my flight was so incredibly delayed and we just started making conversation and now i sorta wanna marry you

Pete gets rickrolled immediately when he wakes up.

“What the fuck?” He mumbles, patting around for his phone. He finds it, and upon finding it, discovers that it’s Joe calling him. Of course it fucking is. How Joe managed to set that as his default ringtone is beyond him. Pete doesn’t even know how to set a ringtone.

“H’llo?” Pete slurs into the phone.

“Dude, are you at the airport yet? I checked your Instagram story but you don’t have a mirror selfie on it so I figured you weren’t there yet. Do you need a ride? We might be a bit late, but-”

Wait. What? Then it clicks. Pete has a fucking flight today. He glances up at the clock, and his rapidly accelerating heart rises to the top of his throat. Shit. He was supposed to leave three hours ago.

“Pick me up,” Pete snaps into the phone.

“I’m outside in three.” Joe sounds a bit panicked but manages to mostly hide it. Kudos to him. Pete would be bawling his eyes out if he was in Joe’s place. “We’re getting to the fucking airport as quick as possible.”

Pete takes a quarter of a second to thank his stars for Joe Trohman. He then flings off the covers and springs out of bed. He has a repeating mantra of  _ shit, shit, shit _ running through his head as he changes hurriedly and sprints to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

Pete will later think that he should have gotten some fucking world record. He grabs his (thankfully already packed - at least he was somewhat smart yesterday) backpack, double checks to make sure he has his passport, phone, and wallet, and shoves open the door to his house. Looking around wildly, he spots Joe’s car with the engine running and starts running towards it.

As soon as Pete slides into the passenger seat and slams the door shut, Joe starts the car. The car jolts forward onto the road, driving well over the speed limit. They stay like this until Pete catches his breath; running through the house with a pounding heart is hard, damn it.

“Who created you, Joe Trohman?”

Joe doesn’t reply for a second, too busy not crashing into cars. “My parents?”

Pete shrugs. “I’ll make sure to thank them, then.”

The rest of the car ride continues in silence until Joe screeches to a stop outside the domestic flights terminal. Pete hops out of the car clutching his backpack, swings it onto his shoulders, and yells a goodbye over his shoulder as he sprints into the airport.

Once he enters the airport, Pete slows down to a fast walk and gives thanks to whatever deities up there that he has no suitcase to check in.

He gets through security without a hitch, but once Pete gets to his gate and sees nearly nobody there, his heart starts hammering, accelerating for the second time that day. All his self-deprecating thoughts and tears that he had been holding back start spilling over as Pete rushes past increasingly blurry people and makes a beeline towards a seat in the back. He sits down in the seat, backpack and all, and buries his head in his hands. Why today, of all days? Why did he have to sleep past his damn alarm today? Why had he thought that it would be a good idea to stay up so late yesterday? He should have known better, should have known that he would have slept through his fucking alarm. He’s a fucking idiot, an idiot who should never be trusted to fly by himself.

“Hey, you okay?” Pete is jolted out of his thoughts by a soft voice and looks up to see who just may be the cutest human Pete has ever seen. He’s wearing a gray polo shirt, an oversized cardigan, skinny black jeans, black-rimmed glasses. Oh, and a black fedora perched jauntily on top of ginger hair swept sideways.

The man crouches in front of Pete, and Pete’s eyes widen as he realizes that he probably looks like shit. He immediately scoots back, his breath huffing out of him as his back hits the back of the chair.

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay.” The man puts up his hands and backs up a little, starting to stand up.

Pete snaps. “No, it’s not fucking okay. You know why? I missed my fucking flight and now I can’t be home in time for Christmas and all my friends and family are gonna be fuckin pissed at me. I fucking used up all of my savings for this one flight, and now I’m broke on top of not being able to see my family.”

The stranger blinks. Okay, maybe Pete had exaggerated a few details. He hadn’t actually used up all his money, and his family and friends would probably be understanding. But maybe a fucked up part of him wants some form of pity from Cute Guy.

Speaking of Fedora. He’s biting his (pinkpinkpink) lip. “Um. I don’t blame you for freaking out, but did you not look at the departures board?”

Pete frowns. “No?” His voice nearly cracks, and Pete clears his throat, damning his crying fit.

Cute Guy blinks. “Oh. Well, the flight was delayed.”

“Of fucking  _ course _ it was,” Pete groans and shakes his head.

“Yep. Something about too much snow somewhere and the planes having to land at the Chicago airport. Most people went to go look at the stores or went somewhere else. The flight’s scheduled to take off in a little less than an hour.”   
“Oh. Thanks for the information, man.” Pete exhales and melts back into the chair. “Sit.” He pats the chair next to him.

Fedora perches hesitantly on the chair Pete had patted like he expects to be murdered. Pete grins.

“Hi! I’m Pete.”

“Oh.” Fedora seems to be getting surprised a lot today. Pete tries not to think about how cute he looks. He doesn’t even know the guy’s name, for god’s sake. “I’m Patrick.”

“Wentz,” Pete blurts out.

Patrick hesitates. “What?”

Pete grimaces. “That’s my last name. Wentz.” He twists his mouth to the side. “I mean, technically my full name is Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz the third, but nobody calls me that. So feel free to call me Pete. Pete Wentz if you’re angry.”

Patrick laughs, a sound that’s unexpected and so out of the blue that it surprises Pete. He likes it though. It reminds him of a breath of fresh air, a bouquet of fresh flowers, bells ringing clearly in the air. (Damn, his gayness must be acting out today.)

“I’m Patrick. Patrick Martin Vaughn Stump. Please take out the middle two and never call me Pat. That’s my mom’s nickname.”

Pete giggles. “Okay, Patty.”

Patrick rolls his eyes. A brief silence falls over both of them, the only noticeable thing being Pete’s knee bouncing up and down.

“Hey, what boarding group are you in?” Patrick asks suddenly. “I’m in group two.”

Pete perks up. “Hey, same!”

“Oh, cool.”

Pete abruptly changes the subject, trying not to let the conversation die out. “Do you live in Chicago? I grew up there, and then I moved to LA ‘cause it seemed cool.”

Patrick smiles. “We have the exact same story. I grew up near Chicago, then moved to LA. I heard that it’s a really great place for music and everything, and wanted to see if I could join a band as a guitarist or drummer or something.”

Pete tilts his head slightly. “Any luck?”

Patrick purses his lips. “Not yet.”

“So you’re just going to Chicago for the holidays? You live permanently in LA?” Pete prods, seeing if he can ask another question.

“Well, yeah. My family spam called me and said that they haven’t seen me in too long.” Patrick rolls his eyes. “It’s only been about a year. And I have a house in LA right now, with a music studio and everything. I don’t think I’m going to move just yet.”

Pete hums, then gathers up the courage to ask his question. “Do you wanna join a band?” He bites his lip, then barrels on. “I mean, it’s just an idea right now, we still need a guitarist and I’m not sure if I want to be the lead singer, maybe the guitarist could be one, but we’ve got some lyrics, a bassist, and a drummer, and you said you can play, so…” He trails off, looking over at Patrick.

Patrick raises his eyebrows slightly. “I mean, I’m not against it. What kind of music do you guys play?”

Pete shrugs. “Just whatever we all like. And like I said, it’s still an idea. We jam out with guitarists and singers here and there, but they’re all either already in bands or they don’t sound right.

“So there’s an audition?”

Pete frowns. “Not an audition as much as seeing if you can actually play and get along with the other members. Not a very high bar.”

Patrick nods slowly. “Yeah, I’d be willing to join. We’d just need to schedule an audition that’s apparently not an audition.” He looks over at Pete. “Give me your phone.”   
Pete blinks. “What?” 

Patrick raises an eyebrow. “I need your phone so I can put my number into it and get your number out of that.”

Pete’s heart skips a beat. “Oh.” He digs his phone out of his pocket and unlocks it, hurriedly clicking “Add Contact.”

He nearly drops the phone as he’s handing it over to Patrick, but Patrick merely laughs.

Pete watches as Patrick goes through a whole process. Somewhat impressive, really, as Patrick takes thirty seconds to do something that would take Pete two minutes.

Patrick hands the phone back with a smile. “I’ll get back to you on days that I’m free.”

Pete grins back. “Good.”

The two make easy conversation all the way through the attendants and to their seats. Pete realizes that he literally just followed Patrick to his seat like a total creep. He voices this and Patrick just shrugs.

“It’s fine. Where’s your seat?”

Pete glances up to check where on the plane he currently is, looks at his boarding pass, and looks back up. “Here, apparently. Where’s yours?”

“Right here as well,” Patrick replies. 

“Shit, really?” Pete asks, a smile spreading over his face. He manages to hold back on saying it was destiny.

“Evidently so,” Patrick says, a smile growing on his face as well.

Pete is unable to stop smiling as the plane takes off, and he finally stops when he finds a movie to watch on his phone. When he looks over at Patrick to find that he’s opened his computer to Garageband, Pete plucks up the courage to shove the armrest up and rest his head on top of Patrick’s shoulder. When nothing happens, Pete hides a grin. Curling up into Patrick, he clicks “play” on his movie and lets himself be transported into it.

Soon enough, Pete finds his eyelids growing heavier and heavier. Just before he falls asleep, he thinks he feels Patrick shift a little as someone pecks him on the head. A weight falls on top of his head, and the last thing he thinks is  _ wow, I haven’t fallen asleep this quickly in a long time. _

~*~*~

Pete wakes up when an announcement comes on. For a moment, he curses the fact that he’s such a light sleeper, then realizes that Patrick’s head is on top of his, so it’s okay. In theory. In practice, however, it’s somewhat annoying, since Pete can’t move his head from its spot on Patrick’s shoulder. Whatever. It’s Patrick.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for using our airline. This announcement is to inform you that we will be landing in fifteen minutes. Once again, we will be landing in fifteen minutes. Thank you again for using our airline.”

Pete groans and manages to slip his head out from under Patrick’s. His eyes land on Patrick’s face, and he can’t help but notice that Patrick looks incredibly cute. He then shakes his head. Pete shouldn’t be thinking this about Patrick. He’s definitely straight. And anyways, Pete won’t be able to snag someone like him even if he’s not straight.

Upon feeling Patrick stirring next to him, Pete perks up and decides that it’s a good idea to start poking him.

Patrick grunts and shifts, trying to get away from Pete’s incessant prodding, but it’s no good. He finally grumbles and opens his eyes. “What?” God, he is so fucking cute.

“We’re landing in fifteen, man. Well-” Pete checks his nonexistent watch. “More like ten, since you took so long to wake up.”

Patrick groans. “D’you have coffee?”

Pete snorts. “I wish. You’re gonna have to wait until we get to the airport or some shit. There might be a Starbucks there. There’s also a small coffee shop close to the airport. It should be open today.”

Patrick yawns. “Darn. Thanks, though.”

“No prob.”

Pete jumps up as the “Fasten Seatbelts” light turns off, clambering over Patrick to get to the aisle. Too busy reaching up to get their bags, Pete doesn’t notice Patrick’s eyes flicking down to the strip of skin that’s revealed as Pete’s shirt and jacket ride up.

Patrick’s eyes have returned back to Pete’s face when he successfully grabs the bags, and Patrick smiles as he takes his suitcase and stands up. “Thank you.”

Pete grins. “Time to go?”

“I sure hope so.”

As they exit the plane, Pete stays silent, expecting Patrick to start a conversation. When he doesn’t, Pete frowns slightly and is about to start talking about the first thing that comes to mind when Patrick suddenly blurts, “Did you want to come to the coffee shop with me? The small one, I don’t know where it is and I was hoping you could show me…?” He trails off uncertainly, biting his lip.

Pete grins. “Yes!” He replies. Maybe a bit too enthusiastically. He backtracks. “I- I mean, yes, I will.”

Patrick smiles, his eyes flicking up from the floor over to Pete. Pete’s heart flips. God, Patrick is too cute.

“So, we get your luggage and then off we go to the coffee shop? A few of my friends work there, and I used to work there, so I can probably get you a free drink or dessert. If not, it’s on me.”

Patrick flushes slightly. “I don’t actually have a suitcase. And I was going to suggest that I pay for it.”

Pete raises an eyebrow. “Nope. I’m paying. And cool, I don’t have a suitcase either. Let’s leave!”

God, Pete’s gonna die. A date that’s not a date, with someone who’s probably the straightest person he knows. And the cutest.

~*~*~

As Patrick grumbles about trudging “two blocks, all the way from the airport, in this damn snow,” and shakes the snow off his shoes, Pete hides a smile and swings open the door to the coffee shop.

“After you.” He swings his arm towards the inside of the coffee shop.

Patrick balks. “A true gentleman, really, but since you’re paying, why don’t you go and get warm first?”

Pete stares at Patrick. “I’m paying, so I’m supposed to be the gentleman and let you go in first.”

A new voice interjects. “Both of you, get the hell in here. You’re letting all the warm air out.”

Pete jumps, pushes Patrick in, and closes the door firmly behind both of them. “Frank!”

Frank Iero, Pete’s longtime friend only because he’s somewhat the same height as Pete (and other reasons, but Pete refuses to say them), is standing in front of them, heavily tattooed arms crossed and an eyebrow quirked. “Hello, Pete and friend.” A smirk starts crawling over his face. “Or do I dare say-”

“Frank!” Pete repeats as Patrick turns bright red. “No.”

Frank shrugs. “Okay then.” His smirk turns into a full-blown grin as he shoos them towards the order counter, going behind the counter himself. “So, Pete, how’ve you been doing?”

Pete glances at Patrick, who shrugs. “Pretty good. I met Patrick here on the plane.”

“Really?”

“Yep.” Pete starts grinning as a thought crosses his mind. “Say, how’s Gerard doing?”

Frank’s face starts sporting a softer smile. “Gee’s doing good. He was here yesterday. A lot of people were, waiting for you. Didn’t know that your flight was fucking delayed.”

Pete starts protesting, and Frank waves an arm around to cut him off as Patrick looks on with a soft smile. Frank continues.

“Not your fault, yeah, I know.” Frank then seems to remember where he is. “So what are you guys going to be getting today? And no, Pete, I will not give you anything on the house. We need some form of income.”

Pete pouts. “You say that, and then give Gerard free coffee. And I was gonna ask for Patrick to get a free drink.”

Frank groans. “Fine. But only because Patrick’s nice.” Pete’s thankful for the fact that Frank doesn’t add anything along the lines of  _ and your fucking obsession. _

Pete grins as Patrick starts protesting. “Wait, guys, no-”

Pete cuts Patrick off. “Nope. Sorry, Tricky, I already said I’d pay. You agreed, too.”

Patrick groans. “I didn’t agree, you just assumed that would be my answer.”

Pete just shrugs.

“So, Pete, your usual?” Frank interrupts, looking amused and at the same time thoroughly done with their shit.

“Yep,” Pete replies. He looks at Patrick. “You?”

Patrick makes a face. “Plain coffee is fine.”

Frank raises an eyebrow. “You sure? It’s on the house, which means you don’t have to pay for it and can get whatever the fuck you want.”

Patrick frowns. “I know it’s on the house, but I’ll feel bad if I get an expensive drink.”

“Oh my fucking god, you’re so precious.” Pete grins at Patrick, who flushes red yet again.

Frank looks even more done with their shit. “Patrick. I’m getting you a French roast. That good?”

“I mean… sure? I guess?”

“Fantastic!” Frank barely lets Patrick finish talking and starts punching in their orders. “Pete, why don't you guys get a table? I’ll bring your drinks over later.”

“Will do!” Pete turns and starts moving towards the booths, grabbing Patrick’s wrist and dragging Patrick with him. Pete doesn’t notice Patrick’s face turn pink for a second, but Frank does.

Frank smirks and turns around, bellowing, “Brendon! Stop sucking face with Ryan and get out here!”

Pete whirls around and gasps. “Brendon? Ryan? Oh my god, how could I forget about them? How the hell are they doing?” He then looks to Patrick a bit sheepishly. “Shit, I’m really sorry, I’m neglecting you, it’s just that I haven’t seen them in so long-”

Patrick shakes his head, smiling softly. “It’s fine, Pete. It’s really fun meeting all your friends. They’re an interesting bunch. I like them.”

“You sure?”

“Yep. Go ahead, go say hi to Brendon and Ryan. I’m right behind you.”

Pete grins. “Thank you so much, Pat.”

Patrick shrugs, still smiling. “Let’s go.”

Pete turns around just as he’s tackled by someone. He staggers around, Patrick’s snorts and laughs filling the air.

“Brendon, don’t kill him. Everyone likes him better alive and we, unfortunately, cannot bail you out of jail.” Frank calls.

The person squeezing Pete lets go reluctantly and steps back. Brendon finally comes into view, and Pete grins again.

“Brendon! Nice to see you again, man. Where’s Ryan? How’s he doing?”

Brendon runs a hand through his dark hair, a grin overtaking his face easily. “He’s in the back, I think. Should I go get him?”

“Hell yeah. Get him.”

“I’ll get him,” Frank volunteers, disappearing into the back. His voice floats back. “You guys get a booth.”

“So, Pete,” Brendon says as they settle themselves into a nearby booth. Pete raises an eyebrow, knowing what comes next. “Who’s this?”

Called it.

“Can’t we wait until Ryan gets here?”

“Fine, you lazy ass.” Brendon perks up when he hears the staff door close, and Pete pretends to gag when he sees Brendon’s face.

“He has it bad,” Patrick sidles over and whispers.

Pete smiles and shakes his head. “Wait until you see Frank and Gerard. They’ve been together forever. Ryan and Brendon have only been together for about a year, but they’re already nearly at the level of Frank and Gerard. I’m not sure who’s gonna get married first, but if I’m not the best man at at least one of their weddings, I’m out to get them.”

Patrick smiles lopsidedly. “A bit extreme, don’t you think?”

“Nope.”

A soft “Hi,” has them both turning around to look at the newcomer.

Brendon grins and leans up for a kiss as Ryan slides in next to him. “Hello.”

“Ryan!” Pete leans over Brendon and wraps his arms the twinkish figure. When he lets go, he appraises Ryan’s outfit. It’s relatively simple today, just a red V-neck and skinny jeans.

Ryan smiles, linking hands with Brendon. “Hi, Pete. Who’s this?”

“I’m Patrick. Stump.” Patrick speaks up. “I met Pete on the plane. Or, well, at the gate.”

“Jesus,” Brendon groans. “I knew Pete was desperate for some friends, but I didn’t know he was  _ this _ desperate.”

Pete pouts. Patrick laughs and pats Pete on the back.

“Brendon,” Ryan chides.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry.” Brendon laughs.

“I have your drinks, motherfuckers.” Pete looks up to see Frank bearing a tray. “French roast for Patrick, plain black coffee for Brendon and Ryan, and a coffee for Pete that shouldn’t even be considered coffee.” Frank places down each drink and makes a face at the last one.

Patrick looks curiously at Frank. “How does Pete’s coffee not qualify as coffee?” Pete starts laughing as everyone else starts making faces and protesting. Patrick now just looks confused.

Frank glares at Pete. He looks somewhat ridiculous, hand on hip and a tray in the other. “Pete’s fucking coffee is half coffee, half cream, caramel, and whatever other sweet shit you can think of. It’s like a motherfucking kid’s drink.” He plonks the tray on the table and slides in next to Patrick, who raises an eyebrow at Pete.

Pete just shrugs. “I like it!”

Patrick takes a sip of his coffee, then reaches for Pete’s. “Let me try. Can’t be too bad, can it?”

“Oh, it can.” Brendon pipes up as Patrick takes a sip, and starts snickering as Patrick’s eyes widen and he struggles to swallow it. When he finally manages to drink it down and downs about half of his own coffee, Patrick finally speaks.

“Jesus fuck.”

“He speaks!” Pete crows. “Or swears. He spoke before.”

“I try not to, but your coffee is absolutely atrocious.” Patrick continues taking small sips of his coffee, wincing.

“Wait, let me try,” Brendon grins and reaches for Pete’s cup.

“You guys are gonna fucking drink all of my coffee,” Pete grumbles. “Try not to spit it out this time,  _ Brendon. _ ”

Brendon bats his eyelashes innocently. “Don’t worry, I always swallow.” Patrick chokes as Ryan turns slightly red and shrugs.

That being said, Brendon breathes in deeply and takes a sip. His face scrunches up, but he manages to swallow it.

Pete slow claps. “Nice going, Mr. Urie. Better than last time, where you just fucking gagged.” Frank snorts.

“Fuck you,” Brendon laughs.

“You wish,” Pete snarks.

“No.”

“Dammit, Ryan.”

Ryan just shrugs. “You’re not fucking anybody. Or getting fucked by anybody. Sorry.”

“You sure?” Pete wiggles his eyebrows.

“Ew. Pete, please.” Pete’s eyebrows shoot up as he turns to look at the speaker. Patrick fidgets a bit under his gaze. “I just… I literally just met you. I don’t really want that image of you.”

“Oh.” Pete’s vaguely aware of Brendon, Ryan, and Frank exchanging looks and raised eyebrows. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Patrick shakes his head and smiles a bit, and silence falls over the group.

“Well,” Ryan says awkwardly as the silence stretches on. “Brendon and I have to go. We’ll see you guys later. Maybe.”

“You guys are gonna be too busy fucking,” Frank mutters as he stands up as well. He clears his throat and looks at Pete and Patrick. “I’m gonna get back to work. Pete, if you and Patrick don’t come again, I will personally hunt both of you down with Mikey.” He smirks at Pete and saunters off to the counter.

Pete glares half-heartedly. “Low blow, dude. Low blow. Even for you.”

Frank shrugs. “I’m short. The only places I can land blows are low places.”

Patrick pokes Pete. “Who’s Mikey?”

Pete shudders. “My ex. He’s Gerard’s brother, and we’re friendly enough, but Frank uses him as a mafia owner would sic guard dogs.”

Patrick’s eyebrows rise slightly. “Really.”

“Yes.” Pete’s eyes narrow. “You don’t have a problem with me liking guys, do you? I never really asked you, since I assumed you were fine with it and all.”

Patrick shakes his head frantically. “No, no, it’s fine. I’m, uh… I’m gay. So.”

Pete raises an eyebrow. “You sure? You don’t sound too sure about it.”

“I’m sure,” Patrick responds, pursing his lips. “I’ve been sure since seventh grade. I just haven’t come out to many people.”

“Aw, Patty. Come here.” Pete commands, opening his arms. Patrick slowly scoots over to where Pete is sitting and allows himself to be hugged. “Being in the closet’s no fun. But when you’re ready, you can come out, and you can be flamboyantly gay. If you want.”

Patrick chuckles awkwardly. “Yeah, I don’t think I want to be that flamboyant. Thanks for understanding, though.”

“No problem,” Pete grins at Patrick and he’s pretty sure he didn’t imagine Patrick’s eyes flicking down to his lips.

Pete’s not a patient person, and his patience doesn’t get better when it comes to cute ginger-haired people with fedoras that look like they’re about to fall off. So when he leans in and kisses Patrick on impulse, he blames it on his impatience.

Pete doesn’t expect much to happen. He doesn’t expect Patrick to not push him off. He doesn’t expect Patrick to scoot even closer. He definitely doesn’t expect Patrick to start kissing back. Or to deepen the kiss. He doesn’t expect Patrick to break the kiss for a split second to breathe. And Pete especially doesn’t expect Patrick to lean in and start kissing him again.

The two only break apart when they hear clapping and hoots from the register. Breathless, Pete and Patrick stare at each other, soft smiles on their faces. The hoots die down as Patrick looks down for a second to tangle their fingers together. Pete takes the moment to admire how Patrick looks. Flushed, dark lips, slightly disheveled hair, breathing hard. Pete thinks that Patrick’s never looked this beautiful before.

Patrick looks back up and smiles shyly at Pete. “Can we do that again some time?” God, he’s fucking adorable. And hot.

Pete smiles right back and nods, watching as Patrick blushes.

“Damn, finally!” Pete and Patrick tear their gazes away from each other to side-eye Brendon, who has plunked his ass on the seat opposite them.

Pete rolls his eyes. “Brendon, you can’t even fucking say anything. You and Ryan were ‘fuckbuddies’ for a good year, and then you two broke up because you couldn’t handle the stress of fucking without cuddling. You both were sad as shit, and then you-”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Brendon rolls his eyes in a good-natured way. “I kissed him in the end, though. So it’s all good.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Pete grumbles.

Brendon grins. “Try not to make out too much, you two’re gonna scare customers away.”

Pete starts laughing. “First off, says you-”

“Ryan and I stay in the back!”

“And second, there is literally nobody here.”

Brendon shrugs and stands up. “Go make out at one of your places. I’m gonna do that at Ryan’s. Bye!” He walks off, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

“Bye,” Pete snorts. His phone buzzes a second later, containing a text from Brendon.  _ Seriously though, i’m proud of u dude. Patrick seems like a nice one. Keep him. _

Pete glances at his phone, smirks, and makes a mental note to text Brendon back later.

“So,” Patrick says. “I would ask for your number right now, but you already have it.”

Pete grins. “Yep. Hold on, I have to do something real quick.” He pulls out his phone and texts Brendon.  _ Thx man. _

Pete looks up at Patrick, who’s staring down at his phone, lips quirked in a small smile as he taps on the screen. A split second later, Pete’s phone buzzes.  _ Are we dating now? It would be unfortunate if those kisses were a one-time thing, as I rather liked them. _

_ _ Pete feels his face break out into a rather large smile as he types back an answer.  _ I hope so. I wanna date a cutie like u. _

He looks up again to see Patrick read his answer with a shy smile that gets less and less shy as a blush rises to his face. He looks up too and meets Pete’s gaze.

“Can I audition sometime, and use the breaks to make out with you?” Patrick’s smile turns a little more devilish, and Pete’s heart turns over.

“Yes.”

“So I’ll see you soon?” Pete can’t stop his grin from stretching even more over his face at Patrick’s question.

“See you soon, cutie.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading nearly 5k of this!!! kudos+comments are appreciated, as always :)


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